Silence
by PhoenixDragon111
Summary: Hermione finds help with her demons from a surprising pair. HG/AD/RL
1. Chapter 1

**Anti-Litigation Charm: **I don't own HP.

Hi! Nyxx here! Welcome to Silence. This will be a short multi-chapter story that is dedicated to my absolutely amazing Wifey, Tempest E Dashon, on her birthday! **:throws confetti and blows noise-maker: **I aim to publish at least one chapter a week, but I have no chill and will probably post more frequently. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Anywhatsit, on to the story!

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The nauseatingly familiar spiral started to tighten as she gazed into the middle distance.

_You have no more family. Helena and Michal Granger no longer exist. Their memories can't be restored. They'll never remember you. Your parents are gone._

She felt her hands clenched into fists and a steady drumbeat pounding behind her eyes.

_No one cares about you. You're the walking encyclopedia…they need your brain…not you. Ron cheated on you because you are nothing. You couldn't hold his attention. Maybe if you had just been a better fiancée, none of this would have happened._

The spiral gets narrower and narrower until she can't see a way out.

"'Mione, are you even listening to me?!"

With a jerk, Hermione looked up at Ginny. Merlin, she hated that nickname. How hard is it to say, Hermione? It's not advanced arithmancy.

"Hmm? Ah. Yes, Ginevra, I'm paying attention. Cascading peach roses with light pink peonies and green succulents. Got it."

It was at moments like these that Hermione loved her ability to absorb everything around her. She was barely paying attention to the carrying on about whether roses are too déclassé or would soft pink peonies clash with her hair? If she were being honest, and lately the only person she's even remotely honest with was herself, the last place she wanted to be at that moment was sitting at a table across from Ginny fucking Weasley planning the 'Wedding of the Decade.'

"Okay. I'm just checking. You had that look on your face."

She was so tired of hearing that. '_You have that look on your face again. Smile! Voldemort is gone!_' What they wanted was for her to pretend that everything was sunshine and kneazles. It wasn't and she just didn't have the mental capacity to keep up the act any longer. She was stuck in a boring job at the Ministry with the DMLE until she gained enough clout to effect actual change, her parents had no idea she existed, her fiancé had cheated on her, and her friends just kept telling her that everything was going to be fine because '_we won the war!_'

"Sorry, Gin," she says out of habit. She's not sorry. She's not fine. She's practically a shell and no one has noticed. She's been broken since the Unspeakables told her that her parents will never recover their memories. She's been broken since Ron said that her parents were gone, and it was time to move on. She's been broken since he decided she wasn't a good enough fiancée. She's mostly just broken…and to her way of looking…not worth the effort to fix.

"It's okay, I guess. Just, get it together, won't you? This is important and I need your A-Game."

_Fuck your wedding, little girl_, thought Hermione. Important? Please. There are starving orphans in homes all over Wizarding Britain, but the Future Mrs Potter needed her A-Game? Nuh-uh. Ratifying laws protecting witches and wizards suffering for having been on the wrong side of the War? That required her A-Game. This? This was C-Game material, at best. She could organize this circus with her eyes closed. It was her unequivocal loyalty to her friends that had her sitting here instead of being at one of the many orphanages that needed volunteers.

"Of course, Gin. You got it. I'll bring my A-Game," she says with a slight eye roll. "So, are we good for the moment? Great. I'll get these notes out to the florist and finish setting up the cake tasting. I'll owl the details."

The redhead nodded and got up to leave. She wiggled her fingers at Hermione and tossed a quick "Ta" over her shoulder as she left the restaurant. Hermione scoffed. Who the ever-loving-fuck did Ginny Weasley think she was dealing with? She wasn't some nobody that would tolerate being treated like a minion. She was a grown woman, a war veteran…the 'Brightest Witch of her Generation." Hermione could drop Ginny Weasley so fast she'd never have a chance to defend herself. She could even make it look like a tragic accident. She's been tempted throughout this process, but she just doesn't care enough. Once this wedding is over, Hermione can focus on her true passions in life.

As she closed the binder in front of her and signalled for a seltzer from the waitress, she put her head in her hands. If she were anywhere else, on any other day, she wouldn't be caught in such a weak moment. She knows she's in public, but she's alone in the backroom and away from prying eyes. She just lets everything well up inside of her until it feels like static electricity coursing through her veins. All the anguish and rage and depression coalesce inside of her. She knew that spiral was going to come back to haunt her. They always did. She's so caught up in the storm she doesn't notice the waitress drop off the seltzer and quickly back off. She imagines what it would be like to just let the darkness consume her. Would it finally take all the pain away? She can feel it reaching explosive levels when someone puts their hand on her shoulder. She gasps as all of that magic charge becomes localized in her chest. She jumps and has her wand pulled in a flash. She thinks about how her senses have atrophied in the depths of her depression...she was getting careless. She hadn't even heard anyone walk up. Just as quick as she pulls her wand, she's been disarmed.

"Ostorozhny, Меgeara. Careful," says a voice that makes her blood boil. "You wouldn't want to do something you would regret."

That voice. The voice of the one man she never expected to see again. The one that has haunted her nightmares...full of purple fire racing towards her and her body bursting into agony; full of fear and self-loathing as she breaks the taboo; full of emotions betraying her logic as she comes across him, soaked in blood and sitting against a wall during the battle and just running past with a minute acknowledgement of his uttered "Blagadaryu vas." The reason she's now fluent in three languages and knows that he owes her a life-debt. The voice that, most recently, has been appearing in her dreams - infrequent though they may be - to help her come to terms with her losses, her depression.

"Dolohov. If you do not remove your fucking hand from my person, immediately, I'll remove it for you…permanently."

"Tch. Printsessa, your magic was about to bring the walls down around you. If it weren't for me channelling some of your magic into myself, you'd have destroyed yourself and half of the street with you."

She looks up into the face of Antonin Dolohov with a bit of curiosity, a smidge of fear, a heap of anger, and a barely discernible pinch of something she's not willing to name and says, "Maybe you should have let me."

She can't tell who's more surprised at the words leaving her mouth. He opens his mouth, pauses, closes it again, and shakes his head.

"Blyat! As tempting as that may have been at one point, I would rather you not blow yourself up along with my place of employment. It was hard enough to find this bogom zabytoy job, to begin with. Come with me."

She looked at him as if he'd grown a second head and began laughing.

"I'm not fucking going anywhere with you. There's not a damn thing you can say that will change my mind."

"You're covered in blood."

She froze at his words and looked down. Sure enough, her blouse was soaked with blood. She had no idea what happened, so she looked at him with confusion.

He held up one finger. "First, your nose is bleeding," then another and said, "and second, all your scars have reopened."

She brought a hand up to her nose and pulled away blood-soaked fingertips. She lifted her left arm to see the sleeve that was a soft blue this morning now a lurid crimson.

"How?"

"Pizdets! We don't have time for this! You're bleeding out."

As the world starts to go fuzzy around the edges, she managed to get one last word out.

"...help."

Antonin leapt forward to grab the woman as she collapsed.

"Upryamaya zhenshchina!"

Picking her up bridal style, he disapparated from the restaurant with a crack.

* * *

Ostorozhny - Careful

Меgeara - Shrew/Vixen

Blagadaryu vas - I am very grateful for you

Printsessa - Princess

Blyat - Shit (like the exclamation you make when you stub your toe?)

Bogom zabytoy - Godforsaken

Pizdets - Fuck! (like, this situation is fucked)

Upryamaya zhenshchina - Stubborn woman


	2. Chapter 2

So, here we are with Chapter 2! Thanks again for all the love and support! I promise I'll get to answering those reviews tonight! I never have much to say, so on with the show!

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With another crack, Antonin reappeared in a library.

Placing Granger on a settee, he called for a house elf. "Nipsy!"

With a pop! a small house elf appeared next to him.

"Master Antonin calls for Nipsy?"

"Where is he?"

With a sigh, the house-elf replied, "Master is still in his chambers. Nots good for him to be abed all day, Nipsy tells him, but he just tells Nipsy to find something silver to polish."

"Of course. Please inform him that he is needed in the library?"

"Right away," the elf said before disappearing.

While waiting for backup, he turned back to the woman on the settee. He ran a diagnostic spell over her with his wand and cursed at what it read. Pacing back and forth, Antonin muttered to himself about stubborn women and lazy men. After a bit, the door of the library pushed open and Rabastan Lestrange walked in.

"What is it? Nipsy said you needed my help with some...thing…Toshka...Why is Potter's Muggleborn in my library?"

"She's going to bleed out."

"And?" Rabastan drawled.

"We both know you're the best person to help her. You have a better grasp on healing magic."

"I repeat...and?"

"Chert poberi, Rabastan! You know I can't let her die! I need your help!"

With a curse, Rabastan came over and began running diagnostics and sealing up the wounds he could see already.

"What the fuck happened, Antonin? She's covered in blood. Hmm. The wounds don't look new ...what did she do to herself?"

Standing to the side and out of the other man's way, Antonin said, "It was a magical backlash of epic proportions. She was barely aware of it and I had to ground her before it erupted and took down the restaurant and destroyed her. Even with grounding her, it was still too much. It localized in her chest and reopened all her scars. I'm surprised her heart didn't stop. It felt like a fucking livewire, Rab."

Rabastan looked at the woman and thought back to what he knew of her. Draco had often complained about her in the past, so it was a surprisingly large amount of information. It seemed like the Gryffindor was always in the thick of things. Survived a troll attack, Polyjuiced into a cat, petrified by a basilisk, pursued by her werewolf teacher, kidnapped and hidden in a lake, punished by Umbridge's blood quill, breaking in to the Department of Mysteries, the skirmish at Hogwarts her 6th year, the cafe in Muggle London with Toshka and Finn, the Manor over Easter hols, breaking herself in to and a dragon out of Gringotts, and the final battle. '_Fuck_,' thought Rab. '_She's probably littered with scars_.'

"Toshka...I'm going to need to remove her clothes to get to them all. Merlin, I'm surprised she's still breathing. Nipsy!"

The little elf popped in and saw the injured woman on the settee and let out a small squeak. Turning away from the sight, Nipsy looked at her master expectantly.

"Master called for Nipsy?"

"I need blood replenishers, dittany, a bowl of water, a flannel...and a calming draught for when she inevitably wakes up and tries to kill us both."

Gone and back in a flash, the elf placed the requested items next to her master and disappeared.

Starting with a severing charm, Rabastan began to cut away Granger's blouse to expose her wounds.

"Merlin," he heard his companion mutter as he began to siphon the blood away from the wounds. As each became visible, both men's respect for the witch rose.

"I know some of them. This one, at her collarbone? Bella. That cursed dagger the bitch loved so much. Here in the centre of her chest?"

"Fioletovoye plamya, my Purple Flame. She's the only one who's ever survived it. A true Polenitsa…a warrior woman...not afraid of anything. Little hellion silenced me before I could get a curse off at Potter and... well...my anger has never been good."

As he went scar by scar, healing as needed, he listed off the ones that he knew. Dolohov knew most of them as well. Stories of her were widely known, but not nearly accurate enough, Rabastan acknowledged. It wasn't until they reached her right side that Dolohov came up short.

"I don't know this one. Whatever it's from, it looks like it was a glancing blow. Still, it had to have slowed her down a bit."

Rabastan snorted but quickly went back to the task at hand. As the silence between them grew, Antonin turned to look at the other man. His eyes were cast to the side as he continued sealing up old wounds.

"Rab, what do you know? Who was it?"

With a sigh, he said, "It was me. The night we got into Hogwarts. She ran right through a duel I was in with Shacklebolt. A severing curse hit her right in the side and the harpy just kept running past like nothing had happened. I was so surprised, I got stunned before I knew what had happened."

Shaking his head, Rabastan sealed up the wound he had caused once upon a time and moved on. Steadily stitching her back together, he reached the final scar and let out a sigh.

"That fucking dagger," he muttered as he cast a complicated set of spells. "Bella was a right terror. I can't imagine how bad this scar has been hurting her, let alone how much of it is contributing to her current mental state. You know as well as I do that magic like this leaves it's mark."

As the other man continued working on her arm, Antonin saw a black substance begin to ooze from the wound. He was pleased to see that Rabastan was drawing the dark magic out of her arm. Rabastan had plenty of experience working on torture victims and healing battle wounds. He was the person everyone had called for when Bella got too overzealous in the training of new recruits and when skirmishes went wrong.

As the magical residue finally ceased to flow, he cast a final healing charm on her left arm and stepped back to take stock of his work. She looked pale and thin...too thin. Rabastan hadn't seen her in years and even he could tell that she was clearly not eating or sleeping. He could infer quite a bit from the fact that her eyes were bruised and her hair was dull and lifeless. '_She's not taking care of herself,_' he thought to himself. With a flourish of his wand, Rabastan cast a final scan to see if there was anything else he needed to address.

With the results of the scan analyzed and found acceptable, Rab performed a complex spell to administer the blood replenishing potion and the calming draught to Hermione in her sedated state. He pulled the bowl and flannel over and handed them to Dolohov.

"I need to go sit down, Toshka. The healing took a toll on me. I haven't had to work on anything this severe since the War. Salazar willing, I'll never have to work on anything like it again. I recommend that you wipe her down with the flannel. Spells only do so much. If it were me, I know I'd prefer feeling clean to feeling as though I just took a dip in a pool of my own blood. After that, spread the dittany over the freshly healed wounds. Be generous with it so that we can try to diminish some of the scarring for her. When you're done, meet me in the study. We still need to discuss what to do with her."

"Tysyacha blagodarnostey, zvezda moya. It means much that you did this today. I'll be in when I have finished here."

As Rabastan walked off towards the back of the library, Antonin set to the task of cleaning off Hermione Granger. Softly wiping down each scar, he thought about his day and what he had seen, and heard, back at the restaurant. He pondered what had happened to her in the years since the War. Clearly she had distanced herself from her friends if the way she interacted with the female Weasley were to be taken at face value. Shaking his head, he finished up and wandlessly banished the bowl and flannel.

Pulling a blanket from the back of the settee down, he covered up the woman. Squatting down next to her, Antonin made sure she was breathing steadily and that she would be comfortable. Turning his attention to the fireplace, he made sure the fire was going strong in the grate. Once he was satisfied, he straightened up to go meet Rabastan in the next room. As he passed her, he ran his hand over her curls and said, "Spi sladko, Megeara. You're safe now."

* * *

Chert poberi - Dammit!

Fioletovoye plamya - violet flame

Tysyacha blagodarnostey, zvezda moya- a thousand thanks, my star

Spi sladko, Megeara - sleep well, vixen


	3. Chapter3

A/N: So sorry this is late! It was a crazy day! I'm uploading this differently than usual, so here's hoping that the formatting works. Anywho! This chapter is where the story starts earning that M rating! All my love! -Nyxxi

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Antonin walked into the study and over to a table in the corner of the room that held a decanter and glasses. After pouring himself two fingers of firewhisky, he walked over to the sofa Rabastan was on and sat down next to him. He took a sip and then leant his head on the back of the cushion. Not a moment later, his companion spoke.

"We can't have her here, Toshka. Potter will lose his mind if he finds out you've taken her. It's only a matter of time before someone notices she's gone and we have Aurors beating down our door to save the princess from the big bad death eaters."

Sighing, Antonin said, "I don't know that anyone will notice for a bit."

"Pardon? A war hero gets kidnapped by a former Death Eater and you don't think it is going to cause trouble? You've finally lost your mind, haven't you? She's Hermione Granger, not some random bint from off the street. What the hell happened today?"

"Granger was at La Lune with the female Weasley. They were in the backroom...the one near the kitchen? I could hear most of the conversation because the sinks are right on the other side of the wall. It's a flaw in the wards of the room. They accidentally set the perimeter to end just past the walls. I've never said anything about it because it is amusing to listen to what people talk about when they think no one is listening."

Rabastan nodded to him as if this made complete sense...to the former Slytherin, it probably did.

"They were planning something...by the sound of it, it was the Potter/Weasley wedding. She barely talked the entire time...yes, no, sounds good, I'll check. Eventually, Granger drew the meeting to an end and Weasley left. She asked for a seltzer and that's when I started to feel the darkness creeping towards me. It compelled me to go out and see what was happening. All that rage, hopelessness, and more than a fair share of loneliness… Merlin, the energy radiating off of her. It was black as pitch. She is drowning in it. I haven't felt anything this dark since just after the War. I think Bella's dagger had something to do with it...not to mention that Granger wasn't the shining beacon of the Light that everyone thought she was. I maintain my belief that if she had been born to a Dark-aligned, Pureblooded family, there would have been no way to defeat the Dark Lord. She's more devious than anyone knows."

Rabastan observed the way that his companion spoke about the muggleborn. He heard a longing in his voice that was not present when he was speaking about other people. There was something about Granger that called to Antonin. He wanted to know what it was. Maybe he could draw it out of him.

"So, the Golden Girl has some demons to exorcise?"

"I imagine so. She doesn't seem to have an effective outlet for them though. I was frozen in place, feeling the pressure build to dangerous levels around her. I couldn't get to her at first. I tried. It wasn't until her magic seemed to realize that she was going to hurt herself and decided to call out to me that I was able to get closer. Magic knows. The sentient kind of magic that she possesses is rare...it will take care of its host, no matter what. It asked for help before she did..."

Antonin's gaze faded out of focus as he recalled the feeling of her magic reaching for him...beckoning him towards her to help. The seductive quality of it...as if whispering to him...come closer, you know you want to. She had always had a magnetic effect on him, but the dark tinge to her magic was new. It was heady...full of promise and debauchery. Antonin knew that she was so much more interesting than anyone gave her credit for. He shifted unconsciously in his seat and missed the raised eyebrow his companion sent his way.

With a slow grin, Rabastan nudged him and asked, "...what did it feel like...her magic?"

Antonin flinched and deadpanned, "Like magic."

Rabastan rolled his eyes and turned his body towards Antonin. "Nuh-uh. Don't do that. Not with me. No evasions. What did her magic feel like? It clearly had an effect on you."

Sighing, he pleaded with his friend, "Rab...leave it, please. Now is not the time. She just almost bled out on your settee."

Rabastan took his hand and started tracing patterns on his palm. "Did it feel good? I know it did. Maybe it was like the sensation of silk sliding across your skin, fingers running over your body…caressing you, inviting you."

Antonin felt a shiver go through him at the way Rabastan's voice dropped an octave.

With a last-ditch effort to end this conversation before it veered off course, Antonin prevaricated and tried to pull his hand from the other man's grasp.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Holding on tighter, Rabastan began to pull him closer. "You're full of shit, Toshka. Admit it. It felt amazing…" He leant forward towards the other man's ear and whispered, "I'll bet it felt like sinking into a pool of liquid lust."

Antonin let out a low groan and grabbed onto Rabastan's leg. Shaking, he asked the man the only question he could think of. "How would you know that?"

With a sinful chuckle, Rabastan pushed Antonin back against the couch as he slid to his knees in front of him. Gazing greedily at the evidence of the effect he had on the man, he began to answer the question.

"I was at the Manor during the war when she was brought in. She wouldn't tell my psychotic sister-in-law, may her soul burn in hell, anything. Even when Bella started in on her, she just wouldn't say anything. Her magic started to well up in her and I could feel it reaching out for help. From the feel of it, she was in excruciating pain but she also wanted nothing more than to rip the heart right out of the bitch. It was absolutely fucking intoxicating...called out to me like a siren. I wanted to wade in and never leave."

Antonin gasped as Rabastan began to rub him over his trousers. He grabbed the arm of the couch and held tight. As the button at his waist was popped, a moan escaped Antonin. He was aching from the teasing that Rab had been putting him through and thinking about Granger's magic affecting them both. As a hand fisted his length, he tried to pay attention to what the other man was saying.

"She's something...other. After that night, everything changed. My preconceived ideas of the superiority of purebloods were obliterated. She bled just as red as I did. She withstood the Cruciatus for an increasingly longer time until it was damn near 10 minutes straight. She was incredible. I've seen Sacred 28 lose themselves in far shorter times. If it weren't for the war, I don't think anything could have stopped me from pursuing her. I've wanted her for a long time."

Antonin hissed as he was finally freed from the confines of his trousers. With his patience beginning to unravel, he put a hand on Rabastan's head and applied a small amount of pressure.

"I know, Rab...we both have. Whether she knows it or not, she's about to see what two determined men can do when they set their minds to something. With your cunning and my wit, she doesn't stand a chance. Enough of this, though. I've grown weary of your teasing. Open your mouth."

Rabastan shuddered at the intensity in Antonin's voice and did as commanded. Opening his mouth wide, he engulfed the sensitive head and hollowed his cheeks. Sliding up and down his length, he brought a hand to the base to work the area he couldn't reach.

"Mmm...yes...moy horoshiy...good boy...that's it."

Rabastan was picking up speed as the wet sounds of him lapping at the cock in front of him echoed in the room. Antonin brought his hands down and grasped the sides of his lover's face, pulling his hair off and to the side so he could see his wet length entering and exiting the warm cavern of his mouth. His eyes fluttered as he felt the first signs of his impending release. Tightening his hold on Rabastan's hair, he began to guide the man lower till he felt the back of his throat. Thrusting his hips up a couple of times, he groaned as he felt Rabastan's throat close up as he fought the urge to gag. The sight of involuntary tears welling in the other man's eyes as he pulled back was more than Antonin could handle.

"Unh...such a good boy...I'm gonna cum. Swallow it all down."

The tingling sensation ran from the base of his skull and down to his toes as he felt the euphoria burst over him. With a loud groan, he spilt himself into his lover's mouth and watched as he swallowed everything he had. Eyes fluttering, he ran his palm over Rabastan's hair lovingly.

"Spasiba, zvezda moya. Come up here."

Levering off his knees, Rabastan sat next to his lover and leaned his head against the man's shoulder. With a sigh of contentment, he began to close his eyes when a flash of movement near the door caught his attention. Staying still, he watched as Hermione Granger began to back away from the door. The look on her face was one of panic at the prospect of being caught...but underneath that panic, Rabastan could plainly see arousal. Smirking to himself, Rab began to plot how best to use this knowledge to their advantage. Toshka may have been the Ravenclaw, but Slytherins were just as well versed in knowledge and its applications in plotting a favorable outcome. As he silently plotted, he felt Antonin's breathing slow down as he drifted off into a nap. Figuring that he'd know the situation when it presented itself, Rabastan allowed his lover's breathing to lull him into sleep as well.

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Moy horoshiy - my good boy

Spasiba, zvezda moya - thank you, my star


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Soooo...I'm late. Whoops!

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Not long after Antonin left to meet up with Rabastan, Hermione slowly began to wake. She rubbed her eyes and began to look around.

Where am I and whose library is this? Hermione thought to herself.

Not sensing any immediate danger, she gave herself the chance to take stock of what she could remember of her day to this point. She remembered waking up in her own bed...a pleasant surprise to her as she rarely had enough energy to make it there. She fed her familiar, read the Prophet, had her morning cuppa and then showered and dressed. It all seemed pretty normal to her.

Sitting up and beginning to push the blanket off of her, she quickly realized that she was naked and that she felt very weak. It was rare that Hermione found herself completely vulnerable since the War, but here she was.

Alright… Reassessing the 'not in any danger' thing… What the hell happened to me? Where am I? Where are my clothes?

Taking a deep breath, Hermione attempted to take stock of her body. She didn't feel any pain in any 'delicate' places, but couldn't help checking. The War was ugly and shit happened that made her much more aware of the monsters lurking in the dark. Closing her eyes, she delicately inspected herself. No swelling, no moisture, no cuts that she could find. Heaving a sigh of relief, she realized that she wasn't going to find anything out about her surroundings by lying down.

Pulling the blanket around her, she shakily stood up and looked for her purse. Ever since the war, she always wore it crossbody to ensure she never lost it. Finding it on the floor beside her, a small amount of calm washed over her. Anyone who meant her harm wouldn't be likely to leave her belongings nearby. She quickly pulled her wand and a change of clothes out of the purse.

As she was starting to pull on a worn pair of jeans, she froze.

Breathe Hermione, she coached herself. Push through the fog in your head. Taking a steadying breath, she thought, I'm sure there is a perfectly logical reason why it looks as though every scar you ever received happened yesterday.

"Focus," she whispered to herself.

Dragging on the jeans and pulling a sweater over her head, she used her wand to pull her hair up and sat back down on the couch to begin the second half of cataloguing her day.

She remembered that she had stopped at Flourish and Blotts to pick up a new book that she had ordered and then swung by Snow's Apothecary to replenish her stock of headache tonic. After that, she walked to La Lune to meet with 'Miss Marrying-the-Savior-of-the-World.' It wouldn't have been so bad if Ginny wasn't such an ungrateful brat, but that was beside the point. It was as she recalled why they had met that the memory of what happened next hit her.

"Oh, Merlin, Morgana, and Maeve. What have I done?"

If it hadn't been for Dolohov, she probably would be buried under the rubble of that restaurant instead of sitting in a very nice library. That was the first time that the darkness had broken free of her control. Usually, she just had to deal with nosebleeds when the magic got too worked up. Hermione knew that she owed her life to Dolohov. Gazing around, Hermione again wondered whose library she was in. Standing up, she began to look around the room to keep herself occupied. If it hadn't been for the fact that she still was in an unfamiliar place, she'd probably find herself pulling books off the shelves and sitting down to read. As she still didn't know where she was, she pushed the thought away.

Moving from shelf to shelf, she saw many charms, arithmancy, and dark arts texts along with a large assortment of journals and other miscellaneous reference materials. Whoever owned this library, she was willing to bet they were at least passingly intelligent.

The image of Dolohov crossed her mind and she considered the man who had saved her life. She hadn't seen him since shortly after the war. Oh, she knew that he was still in England, but it was only because of Harry and Ron being Aurors. They'd mentioned that the Death Eaters that had been captured the night of the Final Battle had been detained and sent to Azkaban to await trials. She was shocked to learn some of the information that had come to light during said trials. Not everything had been as it seemed during the fighting.

For one thing, Draco Malfoy came forward to talk about how Voldemort and his sycophantic aunt had forced him into service by threatening Lucius and Narcissa's life if he didn't comply. Remembering what it felt like to make a difficult decision to save a parent's life, she'd felt a bone-deep sorrow for the life he had been forced to lead. Though she had never said anything, she kept tabs on him. If there was ever anything that she could do to help him, she would make sure she put the effort forward. When she had heard that he, along with several other exonerated former Death Eaters, was having trouble with "random" searches from the Aurors, she had leaned on Harry and Ron to see what they could do to stop them. Making life even a little bit less stressful for someone who understood some of her struggles, even if he didn't know it, was one of the only things that kept her going anymore.

Another thing that came out during the trials was that Rabastan Lestrange, long thought to have been an active participant the night of the Longbottom's torture, had been forced along by his brother and sister-in-law. He had been a newly marked Death Eater and his brother brought him along as a lookout. He hadn't wanted to be there and, after spending time pacing back and forth outside of the home, had decided to leave them to their fates when the Aurors arrived. The right to a fair trial was not something that was viewed as necessary to the MLE during the First Wizarding War. Subsequently, off he was sent to Azkaban.

This time around, fair trials had been assured. Several former Death Eaters had either had their sentences commuted or been given a sentence of time served. It was incredible to see the level of unrest that had existed in the Death Eater ranks. Snape had provided several statements as to the names of the men and women who had been there solely due to fear. People such as Salix Parkinson, Pansy's older brother, and Coralee Greengrass, Daphne and Astoria's eldest sister, had been marked to protect their younger siblings. Others, like Draco and Marcus Flint, had joined to protect their parents. Everyone had their reasons. While some had truly believed...some others had no choice.

That's where Dolohov came in. An abusive drunk for a father, Sergei Dolohov had moved his family from Russia to London in the late 1960s. A young Antonin had just been reaching school age. Sergei had fallen in with a group of men and women who were to become the first Death Eaters and he had promised his only son to the enigmatic man leading the pack. While at Hogwarts, Dolohov had been a bit of a loner. He had a thick Russian accent and few friends. It wasn't until his 4th year when a young Severus Snape had asked him to help him with his charms work that he had finally found a close friend. He hadn't fit in with his fellow Ravenclaws, because of his father's "political affiliation" and he wasn't from one of the long-standing Pureblood families of Britain that attracted the Slytherins. Hufflepuffs found him too dark, Gryffindors loathed him for all of the above reasons. Snape had been a steady friend throughout his remaining 3 years at Hogwarts and, unbeknownst to anyone else, a confidant during the war. It had been through Dolohov that Snape had gained some of the vital information he had passed on to the Order. It had been a circus the day of his trial when Snape had willingly taken the stand on Dolohov's behalf. No one had been expecting it.

That trial was one of only four that Hermione had attended. She had stood in support of Professor Snape, Draco and Narcissa Malfoy, and Dolohov. If she were being honest with herself, that had been one of the final nails in the coffin of her relationship with Ron. During her time on the witness stand, she spoke of her interactions with each of them throughout the war and answered all of the questions that had been posed to her.

The most uncomfortable questions had been regarding why she was acting as a witness for the defence in the Dolohov trial if he had attacked her on multiple occasions. She answered honestly and detailed how each of her interactions with the Russian man had not been nearly as frightening as everyone assumed they had been. She explained that she held no ill will towards him for the spell he had sent at her in the Department of Mysteries because she had silenced him first. During a battle, being silenced was a serious handicap and if the shoe had been on the other foot, she said, she couldn't have guaranteed that she wouldn't have done something similar. As for the cafe in Tottenham Court, she had been the one to break the Taboo and he just so happened to have been on the team sent to investigate. Every spell he had sent her way had mysteriously gone off course and they were able to subdue the two men rather easily. Her final interaction with the man had been towards the end of the Final Battle. She detailed the state she found him in as she was running to meet up with Harry, the look of resignation in his eyes as he accepted his fate, and finally, the surprise as she looked away and kept running. It was his final words to her that had sealed her regard for him. She hadn't known any Russian at the time, but she had looked up the phrase when things had slowed down. So simple, but thank you goes a long way.

Coming back to the present, Hermione began to walk towards the rear of the library. As she was walking around a row of shelves, she heard a sound from a room off to her left. With all of the Gryffindor recklessness she contained, she tiptoed over to the door to peek inside.

Her hand flew to her mouth to smother the gasp that threatened to expose her snooping. Seated on a couch in the middle of the room was Dolohov and, on his knees before him, was Rabastan Lestrange. Hermione felt heat begin to spread throughout her body as she took in the look of lust in Dolohov's eyes and the way Rabastan began to caress him.

It had been too long since she had been with a man...depression and poor timing wreaking havoc on her love life. Ron had left her a broken mess and she had not had a relationship since. A few one-night stands with Muggle men and the vibrator in her nightstand drawer had been all she had for comfort. Even that had stopped recently due to the fact that the faceless man she fantasized about had gained an unexpected face. A face she was currently seeing in real life.

She attempted to pull herself together and focus on the conversation they were having, but it was proving difficult. She heard Dolohov gasp and saw Lestrange rubbing the sizeable bulge in his trousers only to loosen them a moment later. Biting the inside of her cheek, she was able to push back the wave of need that had welled inside of her temporarily in time to hear the next part of their conversation.

_"She's something...other. After that night, everything changed. My preconceived ideas of the superiority of purebloods were obliterated. She bled just as red as I did. She withstood the Cruciatus for an increasingly longer time until it was damn near 10 minutes straight. She was incredible. I've seen Sacred 28 lose themselves in far shorter times. If it weren't for the war, I don't think anything could have stopped me from pursuing her. I've wanted her for a long time._"

Eyes widening, she felt her breath catch. Rabastan Lestrange wanted her? Had done so for a long time? It was unbelievable. It was insane. It was...flattering? Arousing, to be sure. Tuning back in as she heard Dolohov hiss and saw him place his hand on Rabastan's head, what she heard next had her body trembling and her knickers flooding.

_"I know, Rab...we both have. Whether she knows it or not, she's about to see what two determined men can do when they set their minds to something. With your cunning and my wit, she doesn't stand a chance. Enough of this, though. I've grown weary of your teasing. Open your mouth."_

Oh, Merlin! At the hint of steel in Dolohov's voice, Hermione shuddered. Voices were a particular weakness for her and the command in his gravelly tone was almost too much. Watching Rabastan open his mouth wide, engulf the sensitive head and hollow his cheeks, she felt her legs on the verge of giving out. Without a doubt, this was the single most titillating thing Hermione had ever witnessed. Seeing these two stunningly handsome men engaged in something this intimate made her wish for things she hadn't dared to imagine in a long time. Hearing Dolohov admit he wanted her too was just too much. The man who had been haunting her fantasies wanted her as much as she wanted him.

_"Mmm...yes...moy horoshiy...good boy...that's it."_

She saw Rabastan picking up speed as the wet sounds of him sucking the cock in front of him echoed in the room. Clenching her legs together, Hermione watched as Dolohov brought his hands down and grasped the sides of his lover's face. Dolohov pulled Lestrange's hair up and to the side and Hermione had a clear view of his wet length entering and exiting the warm cavern of Rabastan's mouth.

_"Uhh...such a good boy...I'm gonna cum. Swallow it all down."_

Hermione shivered as she watched Dolohov hold the other man's head down as he convulsed and came in Rabastan's mouth. She could feel her arousal drenching the seat of her jeans and slowly began to back away from the door as she saw Rabastan lever off his knees to sit down next to the other man. The last thing she needed was for the men to realize that she had been spying on them during that private moment. When she was far enough away from the door that she felt she wouldn't be caught, she turned and hurried over to the settee she woke up on.

She sat down and tried to calm her racing heart. Circe, she thought, that was incredibly hot. Feeling slightly overwhelmed, Hermione wondered how she was supposed to be able to look the men in their eyes after seeing what she had. Shaking her head, Hermione decided that she was going to have to have a long talk with both men when they emerged from the other room. Until that time, as she was still feeling as weak as a day old kitten, she decided to take a break. Laying her head down on the cushion of the settee, she thought to just rest her eyes a moment and was asleep before she knew it.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Early post! (I mean, it's a day, but still!) This chapter is going to deal with a canon character death. It's not explicit, but it's there. Also, thanks go out to Devon A. Snow for continuing to be my beta extraordinaire. On with the show!

-

Hermione slowly drifted into consciousness as she heard talking nearby. Opening her eyes, she sought out the source of the noise. Off to her right, she saw Dolohov and Lestrange sitting next to each other having a conversation. She gingerly sat up and the men's eyes flew to her.

"Granger, how are you feeling?"

Feeling a panic set in as she looked at the men she had been spying on earlier, she quickly tried to make an escape.

"I'm fine, Lestrange. I take it that this is your home? It's lovely. I adore the library. Thank you for your hospitality. I'll just be going now."

So much for talking, she thought. Standing up, she went to bend over to reach for her purse and a wave of dizziness overtook her. She brought a hand up to her head and the other to the arm of the couch to steady her.

"Sit down, Меgeara. You'll hurt yourself."

With a glare, she sat down to avoid embarrassing herself further by falling over. She hated being treated like a child.

"Fuck off, Dolohov. It's not like you care...and stop calling me that...this isn't Verona and I'll not be tamed."

If the situation weren't so dire, she probably would have laughed at the look of shock on Dolohov's face. As it was, Lestrange had no such qualms and began chuckling.

"Well, color me surprised, Granger. When did you find the time to learn Russian?"

"You can fuck off too, Lestrange. I don't have to explain myself to you...or anyone for that matter. Thank you for saving me, healing me, whatever the hell happened. Now that we've had our touching moment and I've thanked you, I'm leaving."

She stood up and began to head towards the fireplace and the pot of floo powder she saw on the mantle. Just as she went to pass Antonin, she felt a hand on her arm.

"Syad."

Whipping her hand out of his arm, Hermione brought it up and poked him in the chest.

"Who exactly do you think you're talking to, Dolohov? I'm not a dog and I'll not be spoken to like one. Tell me to sit down again and I'll show you exactly why people are still afraid of me."

She whirled around to face Lestrange, "and you! Stop your incessant chuckling or I'll silence you...your friend knows I'm a dab hand at it."

She turned back to Dolohov only to find him standing up right in front of her. Hermione knew that she had possibly crossed a line with her attitude, but she couldn't stop herself. She was tired, cranky, and in pain. She'd always been an unpleasant person, but it was magnified when she wasn't feeling well. She knew better than to let her emotions get the better of her.

"Listen, Dolohov, I apologize…"

"Syad i slushay. Now."

His tone brooked no argument. She immediately sat down and folded her hands in her lap.

"You almost killed yourself today. Now, that may not sound like the worst thing in the world to you...which is another conversation we'll be having...but it would have been quite upsetting for a lot of people. Something is clearly wrong. Not only with your emotions, but with your magic too. I've only ever experienced a magical discharge like that a few times in my life. Each one has been from a person who's been infected by dark magic...either purposely or due to a nasty run in with another person. I don't know which applies, but I'm willing to bet it has more to do with your stay at Malfoy Manor than anything."

Knowing better than to talk just yet and being far too invested in what he was saying, Hermione attempted to get her confusion across nonverbally. Luckily, Dolohov was perceptive.

"Think of it like this: If you drink milk every time you have a fever, the body begins to associate milk with illness and an allergy can develop. Dark magic residue, such as comes from the Cruciatus or exposure to cursed objects, can become something that the body recognizes as a typical by product of anger and stress. The welling up of the residue is like anaphylaxis. You get angry, stressed, depressed, whatever, and suddenly, the dark magic is suffocating you. I'd be willing to bet that every time you feel yourself getting pulled under by the depression and loneliness, your magic reaches out for help. It did with me, and apparently it did with Rab at the Manor."

Bringing a hand to her mouth, she felt tears begin to fall from her eyes. Was this all because of the War? Were the depression, anger, and anxiety all due to her prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus? Was it because of that hateful scar on her arm? Had Bellatrix really done that much damage to her? While trying to process everything Dolohov had just said, she looked at Rabastan. He was sitting on the floor next to the settee. She had no idea when he had moved from the couch to the floor, but a small part of her was glad he was nearby. She had no idea that her magic had called out to him at the Manor. She had been slightly preoccupied at the time. It was interesting that her magic chose Rabastan to ask for help...Draco had been nearby, as had Narcissa...why choose someone she didn't even know?

"I didn't know. At the Manor...I didn't know it called out for you. I didn't even know you were there. All I knew was that I had to protect Harry and I couldn't tell her about the Horcruxes and that I wouldn't let her break my mind. It was all I was focused on. I barely felt the pain after the first few rounds because I was so focused on not breaking. Even if she had killed me, I was determined that she wouldn't get any information out of me before I took my last breath."

Rabastan slid over to her and leaned his head against her knee. He couldn't face her for the first time since she arrived. She was everything that he wished he could have been. If only he could have stood up to his brother and sister-in-law...if only he could have saved her on that day...if only.

"I was visiting Draco when you were brought in. Draco was called down to identify the three of you and I followed him down. I was close to the door. I felt sick watching her brutalize you like that...and yet, I was and still am in awe of you. I've seen people older and with more experience shatter under the onslaught of her Cruciatus. When that house elf popped in to rescue you, I was so relieved because I didn't know if I would have been able to stand back and do nothing for much longer. I was already concocting plans in my head to try to get you out from under her. I was prepared to fight Greyback for you if that was what it had come down to, but it didn't and I'm grateful that the elf was able to get

you out of there."

Finally tilting his head up to meet her eyes, he asked,

"What is the elf's name?"

Tears streaming down her face, Hermione looked away.

"His name was Dobby. He died that day...rescuing me. He could have just apparated Harry and Ron away and left me, but he didn't. He came up to the drawing room first to get me. As we were disapparating, Bellatrix...she...she threw her dagger at us and it hit Dobby. He died in Harry's arms. We buried him at Shell Cottage and then Fleur treated my wounds. His death is on my head. So many are. So many good people died in the War...lost friends, lost children, lost parents...and I can't seem to live the life I'm lucky to even have. I keep thinking that if I could have put the clues together sooner, read more, been better...less lives would have been lost."

Hermione began to sob and pulled her legs up to the settee. She wrapped her arms around her legs and buried her head in her knees. Rabastan looked over to Antonin and jerked his head over in a beckoning motion. Antonin stood up and came over to the settee. He slowly picked the woman up and sat down. She was so caught in her sorrow that she barely registered the fact that he had placed her in his lap. Hermione grabbed a handful of his T-shirt and buried her head in his chest. Rabastan slowly stood up and sat down next to the pair. He began to run his hand up and down her back in a calming manner as he heard his lover croon to her in Russian.

"Vse v poryadke, eto v proshlom. Idemte, nu zhe, vso khorosho. Ya khochu, chtoby ty uspokoisya i vzdokhnul."

She cried for so long that Rabastan thought he was going to have to get another calming draught. He took his hand away and went to stand up to retrieve one when he felt her hand pull on his robes. She rubbed at her eyes and looked up at him, hiccoughing.

"Please, don't go."

"I'm going to get you another calming draught. You need to calm down and take a deep breath."

"Stay. I... I don't want another calming draught. I'm okay. I'm not sure what happened there, but I feel better...mortified, but better." She stood up and avoided their eyes. "I really do appreciate the two of you helping me out. I don't want to further interrupt your lives. I apologize for putting any sort of strain on your relationship if I have. I'm sure this wasn't what you two had planned for the day. I'll just get out of your hair."

Rabastan looked at Antonin and raised his eyebrows. Antonin shook his head to let him know he hadn't said anything. As Hermione went to walk past, Antonin grabbed her hand. He pulled her back to the settee.

"Relationship, Меgeara? Which relationship is that?"

-

Megeara - Shrew, Vixen

Syad - Sit down.

Syad i slushay - Sit down and listen.

Vse v poryadke, eto v proshlom. Idemte, nu zhe, vso horosho. Ya hochu, chtoby ty uspokoisya i vzdokhnul. - It's okay, it's over. It's okay, baby, come on. I need you to calm down and breathe.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I am so, so sorry this is so, so late. This whole Covid-19 thing is complicating life. I work for my local county court and we're riding that "essential personnel" train. I do consider myself lucky because there were over 650,000 applications for unemployment compensation in my state and I still have my job, but it's getting difficult to manage my life well.

As for the story, this is my last backlogged chapter. From here on out, I'm writing and posting as I go. I'm hoping to get a few chapters stored up over the weekend, but it's a bit difficult to get in the swing of things again. Anywho, back to our damaged leading lady and our dark and broody men. NOTE: full steam ahead. As in...things getting steamy around here. Also, we gonna have a surprise next chapter! Someone's entering stage left!

DashyDove...Wifey...Моя котёнок...enjoy!

* * *

"_Relationship, Megeara? Which relationship is that?"_

_Fuck_, thought Hermione, when she realized that she may have given too much away. Immediately, she began to backpedal.

"I mean, I just assumed that you and Rabastan were in a relationship. You seem to be comfortable around each other and you live together."

A raised eyebrow was the only reaction she received.

"Not that you couldn't just be flatmates of course. Flatmates? Manor Mates? Not important. What I mean to say is that you have been especially comfortable with each other while I was here. Not like, say, Harry and I would be. It just seemed like you were together and I just...I'm going to stop talking now before I get myself into trouble."

"I think you mean more trouble, Granger"

Hermione froze at the mirth in Rabastan's voice. She glanced at him and saw that he had a satisfied smirk on his face. When he winked at her, she felt herself begin to blush. _Nothing good can come from this_, she thought. He couldn't possibly know about the spying earlier. She was certain that she was careful as she snuck away.

Deciding to play ignorant, she said, "Why would I already be in trouble? Aside from almost offing myself today, I can't think of anything else that I've done that requires punishment."

Rabastan's eyebrows rose as he snickered to himself. "You sure? Wanna try again?"

"Vous devenez un véritable emmerdeur, Lestrange."

At her insult, Rabastan openly began to chuckle. "Mais je suis une adorable emmerdeuse, mon petit chat. French and Russian? How delightful!"

Hermione felt herself flushing and her discomfort quickly turned to irritation when she heard the words that left his mouth a moment later. Attempting to stand up once more, she felt Antonin pull her down again...this time onto his lap to keep her from attempting to flee.

"Back to the subject though… You can't think of anything, Hermione? Nothing at all? I'm certain that Toshka would be very interested to hear about your little reconnaissance mission earlier…"

Hermione felt Antonin still and knew that she was caught.

"Tvoyu mat," she muttered to herself. "I don't know what you thought you saw, Lestrange, but you must be mistaken," Hermione said in a final bid to bluff her way out of the situation.

Rabastan slid over the cushions so that he was right next to Antonin and he placed his hand on Hermione's knee.

"Oh, Kitten, I guarantee you I'm not...what I don't understand is why you think that either Antonin or I would care. So you saw me on my knees for Toshka...I'm a bit of an exhibitionist to begin with and the fact that it was you is so much hotter."

Hermione heard Antonin suck in a breath and felt his arms tighten around her. Closing her eyes and preparing to offer an apology to him, she was surprised when she felt him shift and a firmness graze her behind. It was her turn to suck in a breath and she brought her eyes to his in question.

"Printsessa, is it so surprising that I find myself affected by hearing that you saw Rab and I? I am but a man and you are a beautiful and brilliant woman...a woman I have wanted for quite some time. My Polenitsa...the only person to ever survive my fioletovoye plamya. It was excruciating knowing that we were on separate sides of the War. It was not my intention to injure you that day, but a knee jerk reaction to being silenced. I spent a decent part of my life being silenced while punished so that no one would be able to hear me scream as my father beat me. I swore to myself that I wouldn't let it happen again. I owe you many debts for the way the War turned out. It has been difficult for me to stay away, but I figured that you were better off. I see now that I may have been mistaken. That is something I wish to rectify. We have time for that later though. Now, it would please me greatly if you would consent to a kiss?"

Hermione heard the tone of his voice shift at the end of his sentence and knew that he wouldn't force her to kiss him if she didn't want to. The question was, she thought to herself, did she want to kiss Antonin? She was speaking truthfully earlier when she said she didn't want to come between the relationship of the two men. They seemed to fit each other well...they had a shared history and obvious chemistry. She quickly glanced away from Antonin and brought her gaze to Rabastan. The man looked like Christmas had come early. He was watching the interactions between her and Antonin with rapt anticipation and she sensed a slight increase in his breathing. There was something about these two men that made her feel reckless and alive again...the darkness wasn't as suffocating with them there. Turning back to the Russian man, Hermione had come to a decision.

"I will consent to one kiss...but...I want to ensure that Rabastan is alright with this turn of events. Rabastan, would you like me to kiss your lover?"

"Sacred Salazar," Rab whispered. "Yes. Please. Kiss him. I wish to see that very much."

Hermione felt a small smile of content cross her face as she turned her head back to Antonin.

"Chtob menya, you will be the death of me, Megeara."

Their lips met tentatively at first, a mere brush of lips. Hermione couldn't help but be surprised by the gentleness of his lips on hers. A small sigh escaped her as she brought her hands up to slide into his hair and Antonin shifted to lift her so that she was straddling his legs. Hermione's heart was beating a staccato in her chest at the look of longing on his face. Settling back on his lap, Hermione briefly broke contact to pull his bottom lip into her mouth...savoring it as though it were the finest delicacy. She couldn't help but compare it to the pleasure that comes from consuming something indulgent...the darkest of chocolates, the headiest of wines. She laved her tongue over his lip and applied the slightest pressure, biting down. At the sensation, Antonin gave a low growl and she heard Rabastan whimper from beside them.

She had never thought herself an exhibitionist but having Rab observing the two of them sent a jolt of electricity through her body that settled right at her core. She glanced at the man in question and was pleased to see the flush of arousal on his cheeks. Lips quirking into a smirk, Hermione tightened her hold on Antonin's hair and crashed their lips back together. This was no longer the delicate caress from before. Hermione found herself unable to stop the heady moan that left her as she ground her core into the evidence of Antonin's arousal in a steady rhythm. Breaking away from the kiss with another moan, Hermione leant forward to drape herself across Antonin's body, her face in the crook of his shoulder.

As Hermione continued to move against his cock, Antonin brought his hands down to grasp her hips to gain a modicum of control. Things were getting too heavy, they were moving too fast. His head was swimming from the sensations she was evoking. His eyes shifted to the left and he met the molten gaze of his lover. He could see that Rabastan was very interested in where things were heading, but he could also tell that Rab was holding back for fear of breaking the tenuous hold he had on his control.

It wasn't as if they hadn't shared witches in the past...this was much different though. They both had an attachment to this witch. They had to proceed with caution. They couldn't afford to frighten her off...it would devastate them. Focusing his attention back on the writhing witch in his lap, Antonin halted her hips. Hermione whined at the loss of friction and tried to wiggle out of his hold, but he wasn't having it.

"Hermione, Koshka, we need to talk before this goes any further."

Heaving a sigh, Hermione sat back on Antonin's lap and folded her arms across her chest. She knew that he was right, but that didn't make her any less irritated. With what little grace she could muster after having been denied the pleasure she was seeking, Hermione slid off Antonin's lap and sat down between him and Rabastan. Rab turned to the side and pulled Hermione up against his chest.

Leaning over her shoulder, Rab said, "Kitten, I… we… Toshka and I, that is...we have been interested in you for quite a while. You are an amazing woman, Hermione. You're also dealing with some very heavy things at the moment. Because of that, we want to make sure that you have full control of the situation here. All we want is for you to be happy. We think we could make you happy, but that's for you to decide."

The men saw a tear roll down her cheek and they each felt a twinge of sympathy for the woman.

"Rabastan, Antonin…you two were the first people in a long time who seemed concerned about me…not my usefulness… me. Whether it was the depression, the dark magic, the War, normal growing apart, or all the above, I've managed to push myself away from my friends and I have no family left. Every time I meet with Harry or Ginny, I find myself wishing that I could be even slightly as happy as they are…and that makes me angry. That anger turns to resentment and lather, rinse, repeat. I miss them, but I also don't know how to fix it. I must have been here for at least a few hours and not once has anyone tried to contact me…Harry and Ginny both know how to find me if they need to. They don't though - need me, that is."

She began to quietly cry again and Rabastan pulled her tighter against himself. Antonin and Rabastan met each other's glances above her head and, in a moment of silent communication borne of years of closeness, agreed they needed to call in reinforcements. Rab turned the woman sideways and cradled her head against his chest. As he continued to comfort the hurting woman in front of him, Antonin stood up and walked out of the room to call in the cavalry. They were good with comforting...they could do that. What Hermione needed at the moment though...that was someone who could cut through the bullshit and get to the heart of the matter. Someone who could read people better than anyone else they knew. It was time to bring Severus Snape into the fold.

* * *

**en français**

Vous devenez un véritable emmerdeur, Lestrange - You're becoming a real pain in the ass, Lestrange

Mais je suis une adorable emmerdeuse, mon petit chat - But I am a lovable pain in the ass, Kitten

**н****а русском**

Tvoyu mat - Bloody hell (literally? Your mother...Russians love bringing mothers into everything lol)

Printsessa - Princess

Polenitsa - Warrior

Fioletovoye plamya - violet flame

Chtob menya - Fuck me

(Do I need to keep doing, Megeara?) - Shrew, Vixen

Koshka - Kitten


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Soooooo…I'm so effing late with this...and I am so sorry. Things have been crazy since March. I ended up being furloughed on the 15th of April and things just went slightly downhill from there. My Muse finally started talking to me though so, here is chapter 7. Enjoy!

* * *

Antonin leant towards the fire and threw the powder into the flames while calling out for "Snape Residence, Spinner's End, Cokeworth." He only had to wait a moment before his friend appeared in the embers.

"Toshka, this had better be important...I have a very delicate potion brewing."

"First of all, what are you working on? Secondly, you know I wouldn't floo call unless it was, Sev. Rab and I have gotten ourselves into a bit of a situation."

Severus heaved a put-upon sigh and said, "An experiment of my own. It would bore you to tears, trust me. Suffice to say, it is a modification on the recipe for Veritaserum that I am working on in order to harness the lowered inhibitions while removing the requisite truth-telling intrinsic to the potion. I am researching a magical variant of muggle anti-anxiety medications and no, before you ask, I shouldn't be working on a modification of the Draught of Peace...I've travelled that road already. Now...what have you and Lestrange gotten yourselves mixed up in this time?"

Chuckling, Antonin said, "I shouldn't even bother making suggestions to you, my friend. Honestly, Sev...it would be easier to show you than to try to explain. How long until your potion needs to rest?"

"I can come through momentarily. Give me five minutes."

With a flash, the dark-haired man disappeared from the flames. Antonin took a seat on the settee and waited for his friend to come through. He knew that Severus was going to do that eyebrow thing of his when he saw Hermione curled up in Rabastan's lap but he also knew that he would help in whatever way he could. Severus was an observant man...Antonin felt certain that if anyone would be able to snap Hermione out of whatever Dark Magic-induced melancholy she was dealing with, it would be him. Severus had dealt with his own melancholia during his time among the ranks of Death Eaters.

A few moments later, the floo activated and Severus stepped out. A quick wave of his wand and the soot disappeared from his clothes. Wearing black trousers and a white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled, he looked nothing like the "Bat of the Dungeons" that his students once feared. Most people didn't know the real Severus Snape. Sure, the attitude and misanthropy were legitimate, but only a rare few got to see his dry wit and dark sense of humor. It was one of the things that made Antonin feel especially blessed to have Sev as a best friend.

"Alright, Toshka, what have you two gotten yourselves into now? Am I going to have to break any laws today?"

With a snort, Antonin retorted, "Thank you ever so much for your vote of confidence in us, Sev. Like I said, this is going to be easier to show you than to explain. Rab is in the study in the library. We have a guest, so try not to be...well...you."

"I make no promises…"

The men began to walk to the back of the library and the closer they got to the door, the more they could hear a quiet voice singing.

"_Bonne nuit, cher trésor, Ferme tes yeux et dors. Laisse ta tête, s'envoler, Au creux de ton oreiller._"

Severus froze as he recognized the song as a French lullaby. Silently hoping that the answer was going to be a negative, but preparing for the worst, he asked the obvious question.

"Toshka, do you have a child here? What exactly have you two been up to?"

Sighing, Antonin put his hand on the other man's shoulder.

"No, it's not a child…it is…complicated. When you walk through that door, please use that impressive brain of yours and try not to jump to any nefarious conclusions."

Severus nodded his head and turned to the door. Slowly walking through, he came up short at the sight of Rabastan Lestrange cradling Hermione Granger in his lap and softly lulling her to sleep with a French lullaby. She had tear stains on her cheeks and a death grip on his friend's robes. Instantly, Severus knew that the War had finally caught up with the 'Brains of the Golden Trio.'

"Fuck."

At his exclamation, Hermione jolted up from Rabastan's lap with her wand drawn. Upon realizing who had spoken, she sheathed her wand and laid her head back down on the other man's chest.

"Yes, I would say that probably sums this up rather succinctly. Hello, Sir. You look well."

"Granger," he said with a nod. "I can't say the same. You look like you've been run over by a herd of angry hippogriffs."

Rabastan's jaw dropped and Antonin sucked a breath in through his teeth.

"Severus. Now is not the time..." Antonin began to say, but halted when he heard a tinkling laugh ring out from the witch on the couch.

"Oh, thank Circe. It is a pleasure to see you, Professor Snape. Truly. I don't know what I would have done had you suddenly been less surly than I remembered. I've already had to confront my preconceived notions as they pertained to these two."

"Believe me, Miss Granger. I am truly as much of a misanthrope as you recall. That has not changed. I'll admit that it was overemphasized a bit back then, but not as much as people would like to believe. Now, seeing as I have been summoned here while I was in the middle of an experiment because these two simpletons couldn't handle the mental break you have clearly suffered, would you care to explain why you are here? I'm certain it must be an interesting tale."

Nodding her head, Hermione gestured for Severus to take a seat. She nudged Rabastan to get him to move and she brought her legs up to fold under herself. Shaking their heads, Antonin and Rabastan moved to sit on a loveseat nearby and Severus took a seat across from Hermione.

"I apologize that you were pulled away from your experiment, Sir. If you don't mind my asking, what was it that you were working on?"

Rolling his eyes at having been asked for the second time, he said, "I'm looking into creating a Magical version of anti-anxiety medications. It's a pet project I've been working on for quite some time."

"How fascinating! I would assume you're working on synthesizing something other than a Draught of Peace, yes? I can't imagine that the powdered porcupine quills would provide the result you are looking for. What about attempting to incorporate the Peppermint and Crocodile Heart of a Calming Draught into a new mixture? No...that wouldn't work. Hmm. Anxiolytic medications work by increasing certain neurotransmitters and decreasing abnormal excitability in the brain. Lowered excitability leads to a plateau of the anxious state. What agents are similar to benzos...Oh, where is a quill when I need one…?"

Hermione began to look around and noticed the amusement on all three men's faces. Clearing her throat, she said, "Oh, Godric. Look at me. Off I go again. Please, Sir, I apologize for rambling. Continue, please."

Eyebrow quirked, Severus slid his gaze over to Antonin. "She's better at this than you are." He returned his gaze to Hermione. "No need to apologize, Miss Granger. You were following my train of thought there as well. I am working on synthesizing Veritaserum to its bases to pin down the agent that will lead to a lowered inhibition but avoid the non-consensual truth telling. It's been a long road, but I'm close to exhausting this avenue as well. I may just begin to work on a solution from scratch. It seems as though you have finally begun to think creatively about potions. I'm pleasantly surprised to see this. Perhaps we can discuss this at a later date. I am infinitely more curious as to why I walked in here to see you being comforted by Rabastan Lestrange after having been called to the rescue by Antonin Dolohov...both of whom, if I recall correctly, have injured you in the past?"

He saw the Gryffindor take a deep breath and give herself a mental pep talk before she began to explain about the Dark Magic that had been welling inside of her, the depression, the suicidal ideation, the anger, the misery, and finally the near-fatal magical backlash that had led her to being holed up with Dolohov and Lestrange…

Severus was not surprised to hear any of it. He had told the Order that she was going to need someone to observe her for changes in behavior that may manifest as a result of her torture and the War...it would appear that, once again, they had not listened to him. Never mind that he was probably one of the foremost experts on the effects of Dark Magic on the mind and body...they never listened. It was the reason that he had sequestered himself in his home lab and rarely attended any get-together that the Order insisted on continuing to invite him to.

"Granger...I want to apologize."

All three heads in the room swiveled over to Severus...each one more surprised than the last. It was a rare moment to hear the Potions Master offer apologies.

"I did try to pass on the information about the consequences of Dark Magic exposure to Minerva and Molly, but it appears that the information never actually made its way to you. For that, I wish to offer my apologies for not bringing the information directly to you. I should have realized that you were mature enough to hear the information first hand. I would be happy to work with you to find an effective outlet for the residue, if that is something you are interested in?"

A soft look of relief crossed Hermione's face at Severus' offer.

"I would appreciate that very much, Sir. It has been a rough go of things since the War ended, as I'm sure you can understand. If today has proved anything, I need all the help I can get. What did you have in mind?"

As Severus and Hermione continued their discussion, Rabastan and Antonin held a quiet conversation of their own.

"Toshka, what do you want to do here? _Qu'est-ce qu'on fait?_"

It always amused Antonin that Rabastan slipped fluidly into his native French whenever he was nervous. While he had a bit more practice with maintaining conversation in English, Antonin still slipped when he was frustrated or in the throes of passion...he suspected it would be a lifelong quirk. As he brought a hand up to rub the back of his neck, he contemplated Rab's questions. They didn't want to drive her away. That much they both knew.

"Our only move is to talk to her. You know as well as I do that she will not appreciate any sort of underhanded maneuvering on our parts. I think we lay our cards on the table, state our interest, and put the quaffle in her hands. I can tell she's interested, so we have that going for us. Underneath that bruised exterior she has on display right now, she's still a Gryffindor. If she's interested, she'll come."

"_J'espère que vous dites vrai, amour._ I hope you're right."

After the men finished their whispered planning they returned their attention to the other conversing duo. Antonin was pleased to see a genuine smile on his little vixen's face and for the first time since feeling her magic expand at the restaurant, he could tell that she was going to be okay. This was the Granger he knew. This was the spitfire who felt his curse and lived to tell the tale. He tuned in to the conversation to see what they had worked out amongst themselves.

"...if we are going to give this even a snowball's chance in hell of working, we'll need to devote quite a bit of time to redirecting that magical overflow. I'm confident that you have the discipline required for the task. It would be ideal if we could meet several times a week to give you the chance to talk through the process and begin utilizing an outlet for the magic. Brewing and dueling have always been the most helpful conduit for me and I rather feel like you may find them effective as well. Thoughts?"

Hermione pondered Severus' suggestion for a moment, feeling slightly overwhelmed at her former professor's generosity. He had no reason to offer to help her, but here he was. She knew that this was not an offer he made to everyone.

"I enjoy brewing very much. I tend to make my own draughts and tinctures rather than buying them. I haven't had much cause to engage in any dueling at my so-called job at the Ministry; and, to be honest, I'm not sure if I would have done so after the War if given the opportunity. That being said, I have gotten lax in my spatial awareness and think that I could use the refresher. How would you like to frame this?"

Antonin and Rabastan felt a bit like spectators at a tennis match as they watched the back and forth between the object of their affection and their closest friend. Most people would assume that Severus was not prone to empathy, but those that knew him best would readily dispute that. He was a loyal friend to those that earned it and during his tenure as Head of Slytherin, he was ferocious in his protection of the little Snakes in his care. Seeing him interact with Hermione only solidified the fact that he was a good man… probably one of the best there was. Sev had his flaws… he was grumpy, sarcastic, and his words were often wielded like a weapon, but there was no one else that Antonin and Rab would want in their corner.

"As I said before, I am working on a personal research project and, if you are interested, I could use an extra hand. I operate a small owl-order business for potions out of my home and I would be willing to pay you for your time if you would be willing to lend a hand fulfilling orders while I continue my research. I would also indulge your no doubt endless questions pertaining to methods and best practices in the Potions industry. If it would appeal, we could frame it as an Apprenticeship and, given time and practice, I would be willing to sponsor your Mastership Application to the International Potions Guild. Due to the nature of apprenticeship, we could easily find times to work in exercises to control your magic. This would obviously necessitate a career change on your part, but I find that I am not willing to let your mind atrophy in the bowels of the Ministry when your intellect could be better used elsewhere. I am amenable to giving you some time to consider my offer but know that we should begin working on your… therapy… as soon as is practicable."

Hermione sent Severus a thousand-watt smile and, with a flourish, produced her wand as she arose from the couch. Standing tall and holding her wand over her heart, she said,

"I, Hermione Jean Granger, do hereby humbly seek an apprenticeship in the subtle science of Potions from Master Severus Tobias Snape. I promise to serve my Master as a loyal and dutiful apprentice and to abide by all statutes and guidelines as set forth by the International Potions Guild. I swear to respect his Mastery of the craft and to safekeep the knowledge and secrets that are entrusted to my care. This vow shall be magically binding from this date until the completion of my apprenticeship or until the offer is revoked, assigned, or rendered null and void at the discretion of my Master. On my magic, I so swear."

As the flare of magic swept over her, Hermione gracefully bowed before Severus. The only thing that was left was for Severus to accept her request. Feeling like the world was finally going her way, she watched Severus stand and likewise place his wand over his heart.

"I, Severus Tobias Snape, Master Potioneer, do hereby accept the application of Hermione Jean Granger to serve as apprentice in the art of Potions. I vow to be a fair and ethical instructor and to impart the knowledge and secrets that I have accumulated during my career. I promise to prepare her for her Mastership Application and to support her intellectual endeavors. This vow shall be magically binding from this date until the completion of her apprenticeship or until the offer is revoked, assigned, or rendered null and void at my discretion. On my magic, I so swear."

A final wave of magic swept past the room's occupants as the bond linked together the newly recognized Master and Apprentice. Once the magic had settled, Severus extended his hand towards Hermione and she accepted the handshake being offered. Releasing her hand, Severus took a step back and made ready to leave.

"I assume that you'll need to get a few affairs in order, so we will begin your training in one week's time. These two know how to get in contact with me or you may send an owl. I expect you to show up on Monday next prepared to work. You are to wear comfortable clothing that is suitable for brewing and closed-toed shoes. Additionally, I will not tolerate tardiness. You have experience working in a lab overseen by myself and I do hope you've remembered something."

He paused by the door to the office and turned back to her.

"It is going to take time… and it **_will_** be difficult... but I will get you through this, Granger. Enjoy the rest of your evening. Toshka. Rab."

With a nod to each man, he turned and exited the room. Moments later, the trio heard the Floo activate and Severus Snape was gone.

* * *

_Bonne nuit, cher trésor, Ferme tes yeux et dors. Laisse ta tête, s'envoler, Au creux de ton oreiller_ \- Goodnight, dear treasure, close your eyes and sleep. Let your head fly away and rest in the hollow of your pillow...Sung to the tune of Brahms' Lullaby

_Qu'est-ce qu'on fait?_ \- What's the plan?

_J'espère que vous dites vrai, amour._ \- I hope you're right, love.


End file.
